


and let me kiss you

by hcjime



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5 Times, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:33:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hcjime/pseuds/hcjime
Summary: “I’m going to kiss you, Hajime-chan,” he says after a few moments, because he’s been challenged and his sister always says Oikawas don’t lose. “Someday. I am.” Hajime laughs, loud and full-bellied.“Whatever,” he replies, and Tooru decides he’s going to kiss him if it’s the last thing he does.[ or: five times oikawa wants iwaizumi to kiss him + one time he does ]
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 14
Kudos: 287





	and let me kiss you

**Author's Note:**

> tw for mention of alcohol + being drunk!! it’s mostly just alluded to and nothing graphic happens but if you can’t read it just skip over part iv. stay safe!!

i.

They’re six years old and tracing stick figures in the dirt when Tooru asks, “Hajime-chan, do you know what a kiss is?”

Hajime stares at him like he’s an idiot. “Duh. It’s when people do the — the mouth squishing thing. I saw it on TV.”

“I asked my mom what it was and she said you do it to someone you care about a lot,” Tooru says, thoughtfully. He tears a leaf into four pieces and watches them scatter in the wind. “And I care about you.”

“Okay,” Hajime says, confused. Tooru beams.

“So let’s kiss!”

Hajime scrambles back, disgusted. “It looks so gross,” he says, scrunching his nose and picking at a blade of grass. “Why would you want to?” Tooru just sticks his tongue out.

“I think it’s kind of gross too, but Mom said people like it.” He pouts, eyes wide and glimmering in a way he’s already learned will get him almost anything he wants. “Do you not care about me?”

“That’s not why,” Hajime insists, turning a spectacular shade of scarlet. “It’s just icky.” Tooru shrugs — returns to his unattended stick figure, giving him a grumpy stick-figure friend who holds his hand and writing _me and Hajime-chan!_ in a messy scrawl above it.

“I’m going to kiss you, Hajime-chan,” he says after a few moments, because he’s been challenged and his sister always says Oikawas don’t lose. “Someday. I am.” Hajime laughs, loud and full-bellied.

“Whatever,” he replies, and Tooru decides he’s going to kiss him if it’s the last thing he does.

ii.

During their second year of middle school, Tooru gets his first girlfriend. He’s not exactly sure why she likes him -- she said something about his hair looking really cool when she confessed, which isn’t the best reason to date someone, but he thinks she’s cute enough to go with it.

“People are saying Hoshimi-san wants to kiss you on your next date,” the boy who sits next to him whispers.

“Oh,” Tooru replies, also in a whisper. “Cool.”

The boy stares at him as if he’s said something insane. “Aren’t you nervous?” he asks incredulously. “What if you suck? Then she’s gonna tell everyone.”

“Oh,” Tooru repeats. He stares at his still-blank math paper. “Not cool, I guess.” The boy nods, satisfied, and returns to his work, seemingly unaware that he’s just caused a black hole to open in Tooru’s stomach and devour the rest of him with the words _she’s gonna tell everyone._

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru announces, slamming his door shut after they get home, “I have a horrible problem.”

“Your girlfriend realised you’re ugly and mean and she’s leaving you,” Hajime guesses.

“No.” Tooru preens. “Actually, it’s the opposite.”

“Your girlfriend,” Hajime says carefully, squinting, “realised you’re — not ugly — and nice and now she’s still dating you?”

Tooru huffs. “You’re terrible at this.” He sits down on his bed, cross legged, so that he’s face to face with his now very confused best friend. “She wants to kiss me.”

Hajime pauses. “I don’t really see how that’s a problem.”

“So,” Tooru says, leaning forward dramatically and wondering why Hajime looks so red all of a sudden, “what if I’m bad at it? Nao-chan will tell everyone and then my reputation will be _ruined_.”

“You don’t have a reputation,” Hajime mutters, and Tooru ignores it.

“Naturally, being the forward thinker that I am, I’ve come up with a solution. This is where you come in. Iwa-chan,” Tooru pauses for effect, “I need to practice kissing with you.”

Hajime’s face goes through about eleven different expressions before he shoves Tooru off the bed, ignoring his cry of _mean!_ “I’m not kissing you.” He glares. “Not for practice — and not for any other reason either,” he adds hastily. “Who cares if you’re a bad kisser? She probably is too.”

“I guess,” Tooru agrees reluctantly, rubbing the back of his head. “Still. I wish I could practice with someone.”

“Well, it’s not gonna be me,” Hajime reiterates, and Tooru drops the subject in favor of playing video games instead.

(Naoko does kiss him on their next date, and he likes it okay enough, but he finds himself wondering whether he’d like it better if it were Hajime instead.)

iii.

Tooru doesn’t know what about Hajime’s boyfriend throws him off so much, but he trusts his instincts and he knows that there’s probably something wrong beneath the surface. (He does know what throws him off — Hajime’s boyfriend is decidedly not Tooru and this is enough to make him annoying, but there’s probably also something wrong with him, maybe.)

“I like him,” Matsukawa says when Tooru brings it up to him after practice. “He makes Iwaizumi happy, I think. I mean, I haven’t seen him smile that much the entire time we’ve been talking.” He levels Tooru with a stare far too knowing for someone who’s only known him for five months. “I feel like your problem might not even be with him.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Tooru looks up at the ceiling, keeps his expression as neutral as possible, fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt. “And I don’t want you to explain it, so don’t.” Matsukawa shrugs — waves at an entering Hajime. Tooru feels a horrible, dull ache in his chest, like his heart is sinking through the floor and dragging him down with it.

“What’s up?” Hajime ruffles Tooru’s hair. “You look weird.”

“Nothing.” Tooru beams. “See you later, Mattsun.” Matsukawa gives him one last annoying, weighty stare before grabbing his bag and walking out of the locker room. Hajime’s eyes flicker to him — back to Tooru.

“Now you’re acting weird, too.” He squints at Tooru, pressing a warm hand to his forehead. “You’re not sick.” He’s close enough that Tooru can cup his cheek with one hand and wrap his other arm around his waist, close enough that Tooru finds himself not thinking about his stupid second year boyfriend for two seconds.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru exhales, before he even knows he’s saying it, “kiss me.” Hajime freezes — steps back. His expression is carefully neutral. He looks almost like a stranger.

“You can’t,” Hajime says, strange and low, and now he looks like he’s going to cry and Tooru thinks he’s ruined everything, “do this just because you want my attention. It’s not fair.”

“I don’t — that’s not why.” Hajime takes another step back, like Tooru’s idiocy is contagious.

“You can’t say that unless you mean it.” He looks — disgusted, maybe, or just horrifically disappointed, and neither of those are emotions Tooru’s ever seen on him before and this is the worst. “And you don’t.”

 _One day,_ Tooru thinks, fierce and bitter like bile in his throat, _you’ll meet someone who gets to love all of you, and then I’ll only get bits and pieces._ He knows it’s not right — knows Hajime deserves better than someone selfish and jealous and petty, so instead of saying that he just stands there.

“Talk to me whenever you want to be normal again,” Hajime says, his jaw clenched like it is whenever he misses a spike, and with that he stalks out of the locker room and leaves Tooru alone.

iv.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru giggles, “Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan.” Hajime grunts, supporting most of Tooru’s weight as they trudge back to their apartment.

“Shittykawa,” he says, mockingly. “Crappykawa, Trashykawa.”

“Mean.” Tooru sighs happily into Hajime’s neck, snickering again when Hajime freezes. “I was gonna thank you for being my hero, but now you’re just grumpy Iwa-chan again.” He blinks — beams at Hajime, who’s looking increasingly concerned. “Do you think you could piggy-back me? Like when we were seven, remember?”

“You’re heavy now,” Hajime complains, but he lets Tooru climb onto his back anyway. He does that a lot, Tooru thinks — follows Tooru’s lead while pretending he can’t stand it. It’s cute. He’s cute. Suddenly Tooru feels a lot heavier, heart weighed down with almost-kisses, almost-confessions, almost-something he desperately wants.

When they reach their apartment, Tooru clambers back off, choosing to rest his arm around Hajime’s shoulders instead. “I’m hungry,” he announces, struggling to fit his key into the lock and slamming the door open once it finally works. “Let’s have ice cream.”

Hajime rolls his eyes but he’s smiling. Tooru thinks his smile is the prettiest thing in the world, probably. “You’re gonna cause permanent damage to this apartment if you keep opening the door like that.”

“Maybe,” Tooru agrees, scanning the freezer and grabbing a container of neapolitan ice cream. “Want some?”

Hajime shakes his head. His eyes are impossibly warm. “Are you just gonna scoop out the chocolate again?”

“Tastes better one flavor at a time,” Tooru chirps.

“We can just buy them separate,” Hajime says, like he does every time. Tooru beams, wide and sloppy and definitely revealing too much.

“There’s no fun without chaos,” he replies wisely. He feels like he’s going to topple over and he doesn’t know how much of it is because of the alcohol.

After he’s done eating, he has Hajime piggyback him to his bed, where he pulls up an old sci-fi movie on his laptop. “Watch with me.” He pulls Hajime down next to him, so that they’re practically on top of each other and he’d definitely never be doing this sober.

“We’ve seen this a million times.” Hajime’s mouth feels weird against Tooru’s ear. He tries not to think about it.

“I wanna watch it again,” Tooru says stubbornly, so they do. By the end of the movie his head is on top of Hajime’s shoulder and Hajime’s arms are wrapped snugly around his waist. He thinks if he could freeze this moment forever, he would.

“Iwa-chan,” he yawns once Hajime decides he’s ready to leave, “kiss me.”

Hajime’s gaze turns into something unreadable. “You’re drunk,” he says firmly. “And you’re clingy; you don’t — you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” Tooru says, soft. “I always mean it.”

Hajime shakes his head, tucking Tooru in and ruffling his hair once before he steps back. The distance between them feels strangely infinite. “See you tomorrow, Oikawa,” he says, and he walks out of the room. Tooru doesn’t get any sleep.

v.

The drive to the Narita airport is oddly silent. Hajime drums against the steering wheel with his left hand and Tooru resolutely pretends he doesn’t know it’s a nervous habit. “So,” Hajime says, finally, once Tooru gets all his luggage checked out and they’re waiting for the flight announcement. “You excited?”

“You know I am,” Tooru replies with a too-wide grin.

“That’s good,” Hajime says absentmindedly, and they sit in silence for another few minutes. Hajime runs his hand through his hair — taps his foot against the floor with a fervor unnecessary for six in the morning. “I have to tell you something.”

Tooru frowns. “I hope it’s not too life-changing; I’m already traveling across the world in ten minutes.”

“Could you just,” Hajime says, “listen to me? All the way. No smartass comments.” Tooru blinks at him. “I, uh — you probably already know this, but it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t say it, so. I’m like you. In — in a maybe-definitely romantic way,” he amends, “and I — yeah. I just wanted to let you know. It’s cool that you don’t feel the same way; I’ve come to terms with it; it’s just, now that you’re moving — ”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru interrupts. Hajime stares at him, mouth halfway open. “Shut the fuck up.” Hajime’s face crumples — he’s always been easy to read, always candid where Tooru has tried so hard to lie. “No, not like — I like you too, you moron.”

Hajime stares for a moment, then two, then five, before he says, “This isn’t a joke?”

 _It’s never been a joke with you,_ Tooru wants to say, but it sounds too bitter. “It’s like,” he begins instead, “if you tore me apart — your name would be stitched everywhere on my insides, you know? You’re everywhere.”

Hajime blinks—laughs, sort of breathy and beautiful. “Only you would think tearing someone into pieces is romantic,” he says. Tooru so, so badly wants to kiss him, soft and careful like pressing at a bruise. He aches.

“You’re gonna miss me.” It’s not a question, but Hajime nods anyway. “You — can I kiss you?” Tooru sounds desperate but he doesn’t care. “Just once. I just want to know —” _What we could be, what we could’ve been if I weren’t such a goddamn coward, what we almost were time and time again._ “I just want to know,” he repeats pathetically. Hajime’s so, so incredibly close. His eyes are dark, heavy with something Tooru hasn’t let himself read into until now.

“If I kiss you,” he says, finally, “it’ll feel like a goodbye.” He looks determined — eerily similar to the night after they lost to Karasuno in high school, what feels like a million years ago. “And it’s not.”

“So if I come back, you’ll kiss me?”

“When you come back,” Hajime corrects, gentle, “I’ll kiss you so much you’ll get sick of it.”

Tooru beams. “Impossible.”

 _This is the final boarding call for flight 39C to San Juan, Argentina,_ the airport speaker blares. Hajime grabs Tooru’s hand — stares at him for too long. “I’ll see you later,” he says.

“Yeah.” Tooru exhales once, twice, until he feels calm enough to move on. He squeezes Hajime’s hand before letting go. “See you later.” The _I love you_ remains unsaid, but he hopes Hajime can feel it anyway.

(+: vi.)

Being home is weird, Tooru thinks, and weirder when he’s standing alone in the airport waiting for the love of his life to pick him up. He’s wearing his dinosaur-patterned scarf as a sort of homage and he kind of wants Hajime to compliment it and kind of wants to just kiss him as soon as they see each other. _Iwa-chaaaan,_ he texts, with about eight angry kaomojis, _where are you??? Are you late?? Did you forget me??_

A bottle hits his head and he turns around, ready to scream because today is _not_ the day for his hair to be ugly, but he freezes when he sees Hajime. He’s smiling sort of crooked and Tooru wonders if it’s medically possible for his heart to be on fire and he’s the first victim. “Hi,” Hajime says. “I like your scarf.”

“I like you,” Tooru replies breathlessly, walking up to him and wrapping his arms around him and doing what he’s wanted to do since they were six years old, drawing stick figures in dirt. Hajime’s lips are chapped and he’s smiling against Tooru’s mouth and Tooru thinks this is maybe the most perfect kiss he’s ever had.

“Let’s go home,” Hajime says once they break apart, intertwining his and Tooru’s fingers.

“Remember how,” Tooru says, hopelessly in love as Hajime drags him toward the airport doors, “you said you’d kiss me until I got sick of it? And I said I never would?”

Hajime glances back at him, eyes curved all the way up and Tooru cannot believe he lived without this in person for five years. “Yeah?”

Tooru presses another kiss to the corner of Hajime’s mouth like a stamp, thinking this is the happiest he’s been in his entire life. “Let’s test that theory.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was a commission i wrote for [here](https://twitter.com/lust4venus>kaelum</a>!%20if%20you%20want%20to%20commission%20me,%20my%20ko-fi%20is%20<a%20href=) and you can contact me at my twitter [here!](https://twitter.com/frogiwa)
> 
> thank you so much for reading and i hope you have a lovely day!!


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